Текст книги "Harum Scarum"

In the hallway Stevie handed over a bottle of red. ‘Take the top off for a while, let it breathe,’ she said.

Tash unscrewed the cap, had a sniff and looked dubious. ‘Think we should try CPR first?’ Her hair was wet and slicked back. She’d not long returned from a trip with Terry to the public pool, she explained. A seventies cheesecloth skirt swished around her ankles, its drooping hem accentuating an aura of vulnerability that Tash usually went to great lengths to hide. Tash in a skirt was even more rare a sight than Stevie in a skirt.

‘Dagging around home gear,’ she said in answer to Stevie’s quizzical look.

‘I was thinking more like a perfect match for Wayne,’ Stevie said, ducking away from the predictable swipe.

Stevie followed Tash into the kitchen where Terry, who didn’t give her a second glance, was playing with his slot cars on the kitchen table.

Then disaster struck. Tash’s hip nudged a jutting piece of track head just as the red car was about to reach the chequered flag. The delicate road system swept from the table to the floor and clattered in a mangled heap.

Purple with rage, Terry screamed at his sister. Before Stevie’s eyes he transformed from a gentle child to a violent, booming-voiced man.

‘It’s okay Terry, it’s not broken,’ Stevie tried to placate him. ‘It just needs to be put back on the table and slotted together again.’

Tash dropped to her haunches and began gathering up the strips of track. Stevie bent to help.

‘I’ll be right with this, Stevie,’ Tash’s voice caught. ‘Take the wine and glasses into the lounge. I’ll be there in a minute.’

Stevie pointed a finger at Terry as she passed. ‘You behave now,’ she warned. ‘If I ever hear you talking to your sister like that again, you’ll have to answer to me, right?’

Terry’s rage had burnt itself out. He nodded his submission, looked sheepishly at Stevie then dropped to his knees to help Tash with the track.

Stevie left them to make up in private. In the lounge she put the bottle and glasses on a small table and sank into Tash’s circular cane chair. Her heart went out to her friend—she’d always thought that as a single mother she’d had it tough.

At the academy, Tash had had few friends. People were put off by her brash, I-can-do-anything-any-man-can-do attitude; it was Stevie who’d been the popular party girl. How times had changed, she reflected as she folded herself deeper into the huge cane chair. Not many parties these days, thank God. Her idea of a good night now involved curling up on the sofa with Monty watching a movie from her vintage collection.

Tash was one of the few who’d stuck around after she’d had Izzy. She’d turn up on the doorstep with a bottle of brandy, pour Stevie a stiff one and take the screaming baby out for walks that would sometimes last hours. When Stevie and Izzy both had gastro, Tash was there with the mop and bucket, and when Stevie was having problems with her ex, Tash had given her a key to her house.

The tables had turned when Tash’s parents were killed and she’d been the one left caring for Terry. Stevie had been there for her when she could, though she’d always wished she could have done more.

Tash came out of the kitchen with her characteristic self-satisfied smile. Peace and order reigned once more. She reached for the wine and poured a generous amount into each fat bellied glass. They clinked.

‘I can see that it’s more than a fixed Scalextrics that’s got you excited,’ Stevie said. ‘Go on. You first.’

Tash made herself comfortable in the chair opposite. ‘Did Clarissa tell you my photographer news?’ she asked.

‘That a dodgy photographer’s been using the Internet cafe? Yeah, she did—tell me more.’

‘The staff at the cafe described a regular client who says he’s a photographer,’ Tash explained. ‘His session times correspond closely to the times the porn photos were upped.’

‘Did you get a physical description?’

‘Better than that, we have a name—Julian Holdsworth.’

‘Might be an alias.’ Despite her cautious response, Stevie found herself leaning as far forward as the cane chair would allow her. This was the closest lead they’d had so far.

‘Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that a professional photographer should need the services of an Internet cafe? You’d think he’d have all the necessary high-tech computer equipment himself,’ she mused aloud.

‘It is weird. That’s what I thought too, but the woman at the cafe said he complained of having a recurring virus,’ Tash said. ‘That’s what made her remember him. She said she’s never known anyone have such bad luck with computers. She’ll contact us the moment he comes in again. Meanwhile, I’ve given a couple of the team the task of tracking him down.’

Stevie lit a cigarette, took a drag and queried the likelihood of a man giving out his real name and profession when uploading porn on the Internet, especially one who had gone to such lengths to hide his Internet ID.

Tash shrugged. ‘It’s a start. He could be overconfident—many a clever villain’s downfall.’

‘True,’ Stevie conceded, raising her glass. ‘Here’s to the stupidity of criminals. Let us never overestimate them.’ She took a good swig of her wine. It was time she got Mason’s assault allegations out of the way. Here goes nothing.

‘I, err, had a meeting with Dolly today.’

‘Yeah, I know, we had to cancel our lunch date.’

‘Robert Mason put in a complaint about you.’

Tash casually blew smoke towards the ceiling. ‘Bullshit, I hardly touched him. You know that.’

‘Dolly wanted me to give you a bollocking for it.’

Tash shrugged. ‘Bollocking accepted. I suppose he mentioned the water pistol too?’

‘Afraid so.’

Tash laughed. ‘Now there’s a story.’ She explained how she’d secreted the water pistol out of the armoury from under the nose of the uniformed sergeant who’d been too busy inspecting her cleavage to see what she was doing with her hands. Tash told the story without guile, as if she had no idea of its implications. When she finished, though, she did take a moment to narrow her eyes and stare at Stevie through a smoky veil.

‘You going to tell Dolly that?’ she asked.

Stevie hesitated. ‘No.’

‘Good.’ Tash blew away the cloud. ‘I can take a few black marks against my name, but stealing from the armoury might be pushing it.’

Stevie took a sip of her wine and thought about the best approach. Straightforward honesty, she decided. ‘I don’t think you realise how close you got to the edge with that stunt, Tash. Kusak was killed with an automatic pistol. Monty had the guns in the armoury checked because of a notion he had that you might have snitched one when you took the water pistol.’

Tash paled. ‘Jesus, shit. How the hell did he know about that?’

‘He’s mates with Sergeant Jenkins in the armoury.’

‘Fuck, I should have guessed.’

‘It’s okay, that’s been cleared up, the guns in the armoury have been tested and they’re all clean.’ She hesitated. ‘But there’s still the question of where you went after you’d seen Mrs Kusak.’ She held Tash’s eyes unwaveringly in her own and softened her voice. ‘Tash, Monty and I both know she told you where Kusak was hiding out. And I know you didn’t go straight home after you saw Mrs Kusak, because I called around and you weren’t here. Where did you go?’

Tash’s fingers dug into the sides of her chair and she stared back at Stevie with disbelief. ‘What are you saying? You’re saying you think I killed Miro Kusak?’

‘No, no, of course I’m not. I’m warning you, that’s all. Lucky for both of us Monty seems to have dropped the subject. But if it does rear its ugly head again, I think you should be ready to give an explanation of your movements that night.’

‘He’s jealous.’

‘What?’

‘Monty’s jealous of our friendship, he’s trying to shaft me.’

Stevie shook her head. ‘I really don’t think so.’

‘He thinks I’m trying to steal you away from him.’

‘Don’t talk crap.’ Her reaction was automatic, but Stevie had to admit to herself this was an angle she hadn’t contemplated. Might this be a plausible explanation for Monty’s recent moody behaviour? It did seem to coincide with her transfer to the Cyber Predator Team and her close working proximity with Tash.

Tash cursed Monty’s name as she picked up her bag and rummaged through it. She removed a crumpled receipt and all but threw it at Stevie.

‘Tash, it’s not me that needs convincing. I just wanted you to be prepared in case any more questions were asked...’

‘Read it,’ Tash said.

Stevie glanced down at the hurled ball of paper, unfolded it and smoothed down the creases. It was a receipt from a pharmacy for a purchase at six o’clock on the evening of Kusak’s death.

‘That’s my local chemist where I stopped to get my migraine medication. I left Mrs K’s at about five thirty and if you stick to the speed limit it takes about thirty-five minutes to get back to Inglewood from Mundaring—satisfied?’

‘So where were you at six thirty when I called in here?’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ Tash exclaimed. ‘After the chemist I stopped at a friend’s house. I took my migraine medication there and then zonked out, I wasn’t safe to drive.’ She held up a finger to stop Stevie from asking the next question. ‘And don’t bother asking for a name because you won’t get one.’

‘I’ll have to ask for it if the shit hits.’

‘Well it hasn’t, has it? I mean, for fuck’s sake, what does it matter? I couldn’t have got back to Mundaring to shoot the guy. Hell, Stevie, I don’t like driving that much at the best of times, never mind when I’m keeling over with a bloody migraine.’

Stevie knew she’d done the right thing in pushing the issue, but Tash’s reluctance to co-operate left her with an unpleasant taste. She took another sip of wine and made an effort to rinse it away. They’d been friends for years; she couldn’t see why the identity of a new lover had to be kept so secret.

‘Put the receipt somewhere safe,’ she said. ‘Just in case. But if it looks like your career might end up on the line, you’d better be prepared to name names.’

‘It’s my career that’s the problem,’ Tash mumbled.

‘What did you say?’

Tash opened her mouth as if about to say something else, then seemed to think better of it. She drew her knees up like a petulant child, shooting Stevie a dark look.

‘Am I forgiven?’ Stevie asked after several seconds of awkward silence.

Tash looked up to the ceiling. ‘I suppose so.’ Her stormy look began to clear, and when she met Stevie’s eye a slow smile broke through. ‘Monty’s such a dickhead, isn’t he?’

Stevie smiled back. Yes, he can be sometimes, and so can you. But enough has been said, I’ve done my duty to both of you.

She guided the conversation back to their case. She explained the connections she’d discovered between Emma and Bianca, that the modelling agency that had taken Bianca’s photo was Tall Poppies—owned and managed by Emma Breightling’s mother, Miranda.

Tash was forking her hair, making it stand up in short spikes. ‘Hang on,’ she said, ‘this is ringing a bell.’

Taking her mobile phone from the coffee table, she rang someone at Central police records. Stevie strained to catch the conversation. From what she could gather it sounded like they had another lead. Her pulse quickened.

‘Hey!’ she raised her glass in a toast when Tash put the phone down. ‘You’re a genius, fill me in.’

Tash’s eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘I thought Miranda Breightling’s name sounded familiar when you first mentioned her. It was from a couple of years ago, long before you joined Sex Crimes. There was a scandal involving a modelling agency soliciting girls in the Hay Street Mall. Miranda Breightling, proprietor of Tall Poppies, was stroking these wretched girls’ flimsy egos, telling them they had The Look and promising them a career in modelling if they put themselves on her books. The only cost to them was footing the bill for a photo shoot with the company photographer. We had several complaints about this. One girl had stolen from her mother to pay the fees; another said they’d never received the photos, which were supposed to be theirs to keep.

‘After they’d paid up, big surprise, most of the girls were told they were unsuitable. There was an investigation, the photographer...’ Tash made a drum roll on the coffee table, ‘Julian Holdsworth, and the owner, Miranda Breightling, were cautioned but not charged.’

‘No wonder she doesn’t like cops.’

‘We thought at first that something even more seedy was going on, but actually, the only thing they really did was soliciting—it’s their prerogative to turn unsuitable girls down after all. We’ve had nothing more on them since.’

Stevie beamed. ‘So anyway, Holdsworth is using his real name? That should make him a snap to find.’

‘He must’ve been pissed as all hell when their scam ended. So maybe he’s found another outlet, and maybe that’s selling kiddie porn on the net. Christ,’ Tash shook her head, ‘a paedophile photographer in a modelling school would be like putting a rabbit in a vegie patch.’

Stevie grimaced. She opened her over-stuffed briefcase and pulled out a wedge of paper. ‘Now here’s another angle I think might be interesting. These are stories Bianca had on her desk. Maybe she wrote them, maybe she downloaded them, I don’t know. Either way, they star the same character that was in a story Emma was telling Izzy when she babysat for me. Have you ever come across a character in kids’ books called Katy Enigma?’

‘I don’t think so. What’s the story?’

‘Not sure yet, except Izzy loved the stories. I guess I’ll know more when I’ve been through this lot. And I’m hoping they’ll give me a better picture of the kid. I’m also wondering what kind of involvement she had with Emma Breightling, there’s the modelling and the Katy Enigma connection...’

‘Hang on a moment, Stevie. Why don’t you save yourself a lot of work and just ask Emma if she knew Bianca?’

‘I did ask her, when I saw her reaction to a newspaper story about Bianca’s death, but she said she didn’t. She’s a strange kid.’ She ran her ponytail through her fingers. ‘I’m not sure I can totally trust her; I’ve caught her in a lie before. I’d like to get some concrete evidence before I ask her again.’

Stevie took the iPod from her briefcase. ‘And then there’s this...’

‘Holy shit, Stevie, I never thought I’d see you with one of those.’

Stevie regarded the pink-cased gadget and shrugged. ‘I thought Bianca’s taste in music might also tell me more about her.’

‘So you’ll be carrying out your research to boy bands and Pink, maybe even some Pussycat Dolls. Lucky you.’

‘Well yeah, don’t know how much of a help it will be but it’s worth a try. I’ve never even used an iPod before, not sure if I even know how to turn it on. Damn, I didn’t pick up the ear plugs, do you have any?’

Tash extended her hand and clicked her fingers. ‘Give us a look.’

Stevie handed over the slender latex covered contraption. Tash pressed the ON button, said ‘shove up’ to Stevie and settled next to her in the circular chair so they could both see the small screen. Tash touched the central eye and the screen lit up, showing a list of files.

She tapped one with her finger. ‘Hey, what’s this?’

Stevie squinted at the screen and read, ‘Audio play list one.’

‘No, duh—underneath it, the rich text files.’

‘Documents? I didn’t know you could store documents on an iPod. I thought it was just for music.’

‘Get with the program, girl, they can be used as external hard drives too. And you won’t need ear plugs for this.’

‘But she was only ten. What would she want with something like this?’

‘Nearly eleven,’ Tash corrected. ‘Kids grow up fast. And maybe it’s something she didn’t want her mother to see on her computer. Let’s go into my study and print these out.’ She punched Stevie on the arm. ‘I think we might’ve just found the mother lode.’